Ice Cream at 10 AM

But I had to go down to the car for a spoon.

Signing off from the Pittsburg house- I have to pack the computer and the rifle, vacuum the office. Every swipe of the vacuum cleaner and I feel lighter, more buoyant. Done done done! I will turn the lock on the door (one very satisfying "click", it gives me chills just thinking about it) and turn the bolt on this part of my life. I will turn the car key in the ignition, turn the wheel to the left, turn over a new leaf.

I could start singing that song 'Turn, Turn, Turn", but it's a really annoying song and I'd never punish my readers like that. My mood is more "Stupid Girl" by Garbage. Complete with Doc Martens.

Two years ago today, L. walked into this apartment with me when I broke up with N.; suggested that I "Get It." I can't believe I packed this much living into two years.


Here we go, ladies! NO. SLEEP. TILL PETRA.

Family is one thing

a family that adopts you is twice as good. I'm very, very lucky to be part of two of them. One in Sacramento and one in Pittsburg. Pittsburg first.

It's the type of thing, where I can be out for a walk or driving home, and I'll see Andrea's kids on the way from school, and say "Tell your Mom to call me," and they'll tell her within 15 minutes. Or I can walk in the house, and say "Where's yer Ma?" and they'll offer me some food while they go get her from whatever corner of the city she happens to be. If you live in Pittsburg, you know Andrea.

Truly, her house is a Real Estate Agent's nightmare and an equity investment without end. Every square inch is crammed with children, food for the children, food being cooked, cousins, cousin's friends, football equipment and a large camper that comes and goes mysteriously. The floor sags, the couches are always occupied, the garage requires mountain equipment, and the Sacred Heart of Mary picture above the mantle is crammed with Birth and Death announcements, pictures.

Tonight I happened to get in a few minutes before her, while she was out buying Heineken. Her kids (High School age and older) were sitting around the table bantering when I came through the screen door.

"Hey", I said, "Is yer Ma in?"
"Hey, its JOSIE!" they all said, one daughter offering me some chicken. I tasted it two beers later- her daughter has some skills in the kitchen, and it wasn't the beer.

So they all sat around and made small talk with me for 15 minutes before Andrea stagged in with a case of beer. Andrea and I proceeded to demolish the case of beer while navigating two grandchildren, four children, a case of soda, one zombie like husband who periodically reappeared, timed sessions on MySpace and the rest of the chicken dish. We talked about the people we used to work with, who live in the area but moved on to better paying jobs long ago. I helped her with some minor computer problems. This was all without moving our butts from the chairs.

Her kids weren't aware I was leaving for Kuwait, but were really impressed and happy for me when they found out. Genuinely supportive. It took the edge off the day just sitting and talking with a beer, which is how it's supposed to be, I understand.

Feeling a bit better.

I'm sort of refreshed that I'm not broke anymore. Coming back to a gutted apartment with no money is one thing, but coming back with some chocolate ice cream is do-able.

I'm not racing from pillar to post anymore. I had a good, long venting talk with a (now ex) co worker from another campus, and that let off some steam. He's a great guy, hope the system manages to keep him.

I'm on my way out to another (now ex) co worker's house to say goodbye. The house is mostly done, I patched the walls and vacuumed the living room. I'm working farthest room out, then over to the office. I'm glad to be leaving this house. It has too many memories.

Well, that's that.

Checks are cashed.

Done with M. Tried to say goodbye, but I was accused of ruining his cigarette break. So whatever crawled up his ass and rotted, will be for the benefit of everyone who remained at my workplace.

I feel acutely liberated.

The first of countless crying jags

Driving home from work today, a complete exhausted wreck, Chumbawumba's "Tubthumping" comes on the radio:

"We'll be singing
When were winning
We'll be singing

I get knocked down,
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down..."

I hadn't heard it in years! I started to laugh, then I started to cry and laugh. It's such a perfect song, for one day left of the most incredible job I've never had.

Some divinity stepped in and rescued the couch. The couch now resting safely in someone's garage in Oakland. She even had a truck, the willingness to use it and the upper body strength to help me get it to the top of the stairs. The neighbor boys then stepped in and offered to help.
The long and short of it is, I'll be on the hotline to Blessed Queen St. Jadwiga on her behalf every night. I was having a really, really hard time parting with it. Believe it or not, it was much harder for me to part with the couch than the wing chair. I was looking at it this afternoon, thinking, 'I've done a lot of dreaming on that couch."

A. and W. were supposed to come by at 4 and help. A. showed up at 5:30, after I got ONE curler in my hair:

"Fool, y'all hella late! The furniture is gone!"
"What's on your head?"

W. showed up at 7:30:
"Fool, y'all hella late! The furniture is gone!"
"My homie's cutlass got rear ended."

There's no more furniture in my house. So W. and I took some coffee down to the armchairs by the trashcans. He, sporting an 8" Mohawk and a wifebeater and some chains; yours truly wearing sandals, athletic shorts and an oversized shirt, with curlers. Yeah, I've got your "American Gothic" right here, baby.

I should be cleaning my house, but I'm too damn tired. My body hurts in previously undiscovered places, and I burst into tears over toasting waffles. Brushing my teeth will require concentration and dedication to task. I really, really hate that tomorrow has to come. Know that?

"I found ANOTHER microwave! Oh man!"

The count stands at this:

Pan Dyrektor, out by 8/15/07:
3 Microwaves (in boxes)
A Pallet of Costco Toilet Paper (in package)
4 boxes flourescent lighting tubes (unopened)
Elf Troop 4309 (left corner, garage)

Josephine, out by 8/17/07
4 hammers
1 Belt Sander